“No; not that; but Nelly--dear old Nell--think what you’re doing. Take warning from one who once made shipwreck of her own life. Think no man common who loves you--no matter what his ways are, or his manners, or his speech. Love makes the true nobility. It ennobles him who loves you and you who are beloved. Cling to it--prize it--do not throw it away. Money can not buy it, nor fame nor rank atone for it. When a woman is loved she is a queen, and he who loves her is her king.” Mrs. Quiggin was weeping behind her hands by this time, but she lifted swollen eyes to say, “I see; you would have me go to him and submit, and explain, and beg his pardon. ‘Dear David, I didn’t marry you for your money----’ No,” leaping to her feet, “I’ll scrub my fingers to the bone first.” “But, Nelly----” “Say no more, Jenny Crow, We’re hot-headed people, both of us, and we’ll quarrel.” Then Jenny’s solemn manner was gone in an instant. She snapped her fingers, kicked up one leg a little, and said lightly, “Very well; and now let us have some dinner,”---- Meantime Lovibond was hearing the other side of the story from Captain Davy at Forte Ann. On the way there he had heard of the separation from the boy, Willie Quarrie, a lugubrious Manx lad, eighteen years old, with a face as white as a haddock and as grim as a gannet. “Aw, terr’ble doings, sir, terr’ble, terr’ble!” moaned Willie. “Young Mistress Quiggin ateing her heart out at Castle Mona, and Captain Davy hisself at Forte Ann over, drinking and tearing and carrying on till all’s blue.” Lovibond found Captain Davy in the smoke-room with a face as hard as a frozen turnip, one leg over the arm of an elbow chair, a church-warden pipe in his mouth, a gigantic glass of brandy and soda before him, and an admiring circle of the laziest riff-raff of the town about him. As soon as they were alone he said: “But what’s this that your boy tells me, captain?” “I’m foundered,” said Davy, “broke, wrecked, the screw of my tide’s gone twisting on the rocks. I’m done, mate, I’m done.” Then he proceeded to recite the incidents of the quarrel, coloring them by the light of the numerous glasses with which he had covered his brain since morning. “‘You’ve married me for my money,’ says I. ‘What else?’ said she. ‘Then d------ the money,’ says I, ‘I’ll lave you till it’s gone.’ ‘Do it and welcome,’ says she, and I’m doing it, bad cess to it, I’m doing it. But, stop this jaw. I swore to myself I wouldn’t spake of it to any man living. What d’ye drink? I’ve took to the brandy swig myself. Join in. Mate!” (this in a voice of thunder to the waiter at the end of the adjoining room) “brandy for the gentleman.” Lovibond waited a moment and then said quietly, “But whatever made you give her an ungenerous stab like that, captain?” Davy looked up curiously and answered, “That’s just what I’ve tooken six big drinks to find out. But no use at all, and what’s left to do?” “Why take it back?” said Lovibond.